


something wicked this way comes

by piperreynas



Category: Sense8 (TV), Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sense8 (TV) Fusion, Gen, M/M, Other, Shooting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:02:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperreynas/pseuds/piperreynas
Summary: "'cluster,' kuwei had said, with something close to reverence in his gaze."or: wylan is a sensate. he doesn't really know if he likes it yet.EDIT 3/12: rewritten





	something wicked this way comes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [as your sun sets (i know you in bleary-eyed 3AM)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11005668) by [theprophetlemonade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprophetlemonade/pseuds/theprophetlemonade). 



It is eleven at night and there is another man in Wylan’s bathroom mirror. Wylan stares at the reflection for a moment, then sighs. “You’re a hallucination," he says firmly, as though his conviction alone will make it so.

The other man gapes, presses a finger to the his side of the mirror then jumps away as though he's been burned; Wylan backs away too, warily. “What--"

“Huh,” says the man, tilting his head, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. He steps forward again and presses his whole palm into the mirror cautiously. Wylan feels cool glass against his fingers.

“What the _fuck_ ,” Wylan says, turning away quickly only to find himself staring at the inside of a large, sparsely-decorated flat he knows he could never afford. He blinks and rubs his eyes. When he opens them, he's staring at his tub again. He looks back at the mirror and sees his face staring back at him--bright red hair, pale skin dotted with freckles--and sighs, trudging to the bedroom. 

.  
  
.  
  
.

He wakes up the next morning, having forgotten the events of the previous night, to find the man staring down at him with those wide brown eyes and sighs as it all comes rushing back. "Christ," he says, running a hand through his hair and sitting up. The man's expression turns bemused.

"You're a hallucination," Wylan informs him before chiding himself a second later for talking to something that isn't real.  
  
"I'm afraid I'm not," he responds. He cocks his head, looks Wylan up and down clinically.   
  
Wylan scoffs. "Right," he says. The man raises an eyebrow. "I'm a scientist," he explains. "I work with lots of chemicals, so this-" he gestures at the man "-is probably just a side effect of all the fumes."  
  
The man rolls his eyes and reaches over to poke Wylan's cheek. "Seems fairly real to me," he says dryly, grinning when Wylan jerks away, startled.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He stays home from work the next day to have his apartment checked for a gas leak. The inspector feels along walls and waves around a meter of some sort for thirty minutes, at Wylan's insistence, and finds nothing. "Sorry, mate," he says shrugging.

Wylan frowns at the bathroom mirror. "You're sure?"

The inspector frowns. "If you're not satisfied with my work, you can go find yourself another inspector," he says stiffly, taking the bills from Wylan's outstretched hand and turning on his heel. Wylan sighs.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.

The man's name is Kuwei. Wylan asks for it six visits into whatever the fuck this is, after having realized that he can't keep calling Kuwei "the man,” hallucination or not.  
  
Their conversations up until this point have been relatively short, seeing as Kuwei isn't particularly loquacious and Wylan has been mostly preoccupied with trying to figure out what the fuck this is, so when one day Kuwei asks, "Where are you?" out of the blue, Wylan doesn't really know how to respond.  
  
"Uh," he says, intelligently. "My house." _And thank fuck for that_ , he thinks.  
  
Kuwei gives him a wry look, as if to say _duh_. "I'm in Seoul,” he says slowly, enunciating every word pointedly. “Where are you?"  
  
Wylan watches the sunlight filter in through the curtains and tries to ignore the way he can feel his face growing warm. "I'm in Dublin," he says finally. "It's nearly eight here. You?"  
  
"Almost midnight," Kuwei replies. Wylan decides not to ask.  
  
They lapse back into silence. Wylan stares at his palms until Kuwei asks, "How is your work? You're a chemist?" There's something in the the way he looks just then, eyes bright, earnestness dripping from his every gesture that gives Wylan pause.  
  
"Yeah. It's tough sometimes," he says, thinking of his father, his coworkers, "but...it's good."  
  
Kuwei nods, deflating like a balloon. His shoulders droop and his head hits the wall behind him with a thunk. "Are you okay?" Wylan asks. Kuwei gives him another scathing look and Wylan decides it would probably be best if he stopped talking for the time being. He watches the shadows in his room grow longer until Kuwei disappears.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Work the next day is a nightmare. He's troubled, shaken and as much as he tries not to let it show, it does. He misfiles some paperwork and nearly starts an explosion. Fucking Todd sneers at him from across the room after he startles and fumbles with a mug of coffee for the third time that day, and throughout the whole thing his head feels like it’s trying to tear itself apart; it hurts so much he can hardly think.

He checks out around noon citing a sudden onset of illness and finds Kuwei waiting for him in his car. “You look terrible,” he says flatly. Wylan notes offhandedly that he shouldn’t be able to hear this seeing as how Kuwei is in his car and he is not.

“This is your fault,” Wylan answers, falling into the driver’s seat with a groan. His head hits the steering wheel with a thunk that makes Kuwei blink. “I’ve never had a migraine in my entire life and then I met you and now my entire life is a migraine.”

Kuwei grins. “Wait until you meet the others.”

Wylan sits up at that. “Others?”

Kuwei hums. “There’s seven of us total. Kaz says there were supposed to be eight--”

“ _Us_?” He sounds like a broken record but he’s too confused to be ashamed.

“Cluster,” Kuwei says, something close to reverence in his gaze. “That’s what we are. Family.”  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Nina visits in the middle of a board meeting he snuck into, draped over the mahogany table like a ‘50s noir actress, two fingers curled around the delicate stem of a glass of wine. Wylan jerks and strikes the table when he sees her. Someone spills Coke all over the pristine tablecloth; the others nearly trample each other trying to find napkins and Nina hides her glee with another sip of wine.  
  
Wylan manages to slip out amongst the chaos, but not before receiving a stern look from his father which means he’ll be getting a stern talking to before the end of the week, if not a threat as to the size of his inheritance. Nina’s waiting for him in the elevator with a quiet smirk and a glint in her eyes.   
  
"Wylan," she says, watching the doors slide shut. Wylan croaks out a greeting and regrets it immediately. She grins. “I’m Nina,” she says, and something clicks in Wylan’s brain. _I’m Nina,_ she says and Wylan thinks _of course._

“Okay,” Wylan says, stupidly.

Nina tilts her head and her grin turns into something knowing. “You haven’t met any of the others, have you?”

“What...the cluster?” Wylan echoes. Nina nods. Wylan scoffs. “I don’t even know what that is.”

“Headmates,” Kuwei says. Wylan stares at him blankly; Kuwei rolls his eyes. “We’re psychically linked to six other people.”

“Fuck,” says Wylan.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He spends the next week or so patiently trying to wheedle information out of Kuwei and Nina. It takes a tour of his office and more than one glass of wine. Wylan waits until everyone’s gone to break out the test tubes so the mess they make can’t be blamed on him.

“Psycellium,” Kuwei says a few hours later, eagle-spread on the floor next to Nina, who’s curled up on his couch. Wylan marvels at how easy this is, being with them. “It’s a second nervous system that allows for...well, this. We haven’t really been able to find anything beyond that. This isn’t an exact science.”

“We?” Wylan asks around a mouthful of crisps.

“Kaz and I have been working together.” Kuwei’s expression sours. “Or at least trying to.”

Wylan takes a careful bite. “What are they like?” he asks carefully. “The others, I mean.”

Nina shrugs. “Normal.” A pause. “Inasmuch as that’s possible for us, at least. Inej is amazing you’ll like her. She’s an acrobat; does a show with her family. Jesper is an...arms dealer I think; he’s a good person, if a little secretive. Matthias is a police officer; can’t imagine he does well with people though. Kuwei is...unemployed--” Kuwei stills; Wylan frowns “--and Kaz is inexplicably rich and incredibly unhelpful,” Nina finishes, scowling.

“And you?” Wylan asks. Nina blinks at him. “What do you do?”

Nina plasters on a stiff smile. “What I do doesn’t have a name,” she says, throwing back the rest of her drink.

 

.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Kaz visits on his way to work. Kuwei and Nina are arguing in the backseat of the car as Wylan tries to stave off a headache when Kaz appears in the passenger seat, so quietly that Wylan doesn’t notice him until he speaks. “Wylan Van Eck.”

Wylan nearly swerves into a telephone pole. The noise coming from the backseat cuts out abruptly. “How the fuck do you know my full name?”

Kaz just stares at him with those dark eyes. Wylan pulls into the parking lot, frowning. “Kaz?” he asks tentatively.

“Your father’s been up to a lot of shit,” Kaz says, as if Wylan hadn’t said anything. The fact that Wylan doesn’t know which of his father’s many questionable pursuits Kaz is referring  to says mountains more about the nature of his father’s business, not to mention his character, than Wylan ever could.

“I am not my father,” Wylan says quietly. Kaz inclines his head in acknowledgement and is gone in the next breath.

“Bastard,” he mutters, a while later. He swears he hears someone laugh in response, low and warm. The corner of his mouth tilts up in response.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.

 

Kas appears infrequently after that, staying for a few seconds to watch whatever’s going on apathetically, and leaving once he gets bored. It seems strange to him that Kaz never pauses to interact with any of them, but Kuwei assures him it could be worse so he stops worrying and Googles another variation of “psychic” instead.

The thought occurs to him one day as he’s staring at the search box for what feels like the hundredth time: _there should be others_. He whirls away from the keyboard and asks, “Are there more of us?”

Nina tilts her head. “Who, people?”

“People like us,” Wylan says, making a face at her, “psychics.”

“Sensates,” Kuwei supplies. “Not necessarily _people_ in the same sense as humans, but yes. There are thousands of us all around the world, however I’ve never actually met one. Outside of you guys that is.”

Wylan freezes. “We’re not human?”

Kuwei shrugs. “That depends on your definition of _human_ in the colloquial sense, but biologically speaking...no. None of us are human.”

Wylan frowns. “How do you know all of this anyway? You only found out a couple months ago, didn’t you.”

Kuwei’s expression goes blank, the same way it had the first time Wylan had asked him about his work. “I’ve been working with Kaz,” he repeats. “He has connections.”

“And your work?” Wylan says, narrowing his eyes. “You can’t possibly be paying off that flat of yours without a salary.”

“My father paid it off long before I was born,” Kuwei says stiffly, standing and rounding a corner into the meager excuse for a kitchen. He’s gone by the time Wylan moves to follow.

When Wylan returns a minute later, holding a chocolate bar as though it holds the answers to the clusterfuck his life has become, Nina’s staring at the wall opposite her. “You know what’s happening to him, don’t you?”

“Nothing concrete,” she says, sounding like she’s ten meters away. “But he won’t let me tell any of you what little I know. Thinks it’ll endanger you.”

“Endanger us?” Wylan asks, incredulously. “He’s an unemployed scientist who lives with his parents. What could he have to hide?” Nina says nothing.

.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He meets Matthias next. He feels snow against his skin in the middle of lunch and sighs, turning to find Matthias glaring at him from the other side of the momentarily empty break room. He can feel not-snow inside his pants, crunching under his shoes when he takes a step forward only for Matthias’ glare to intensify as he vanishes.

“Honey?” says Darlene, the transfer from Nowhere, Missouri. “Are you alright?”

Wylan gives her what he hopes is a reassuring smile and downs the rest of his coffee like a shot.

“Matthias,” Kuwei says by way of explanation when he returns home four hours later. “He’s very...grumpy; slow to make friends. Be patient.”

And so Wylan waits until a week later, when Matthias appears in the backseat of his car without preamble and says, “We need to talk.” Nina, who remains unperturbed,  ignores him and goes back to extolling the praises of waffles to Kuwei, who listens delightedly.

"You can't ignore me forever," Matthias says, twenty minutes later, exasperation evident in the set of his shoulders and the way Wylan suddenly feels like screaming.

Nina forges on; Kuwei glances at Matthias warily. “She certainly won’t be talking to you anytime soon.”  
  
" _Nina_ ," Matthias says, ignoring him and moving closer to Nina, who just raises her voice as Wylan stares in what is slowly turning from shock to dawning horror. Matthias glares at Kuwei, then at Wylan as though this is somehow _his_ fault before leaving as quickly as he came.

.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Wylan lies in bed until midnight that night, kept awake by a sudden wave of helplessness so potent that he takes a walk in near-freezing weather to try and dispel it. He collapses into his bed shivering, his nose bright red only for it to hit him again.

This must be Matthias, he thinks, but Matthias’ feelings are never as vivid, never as endless and all-consuming the way this is. “Stop it,” he says to empty air.

The feeling persists. He grits his teeth. “ _Matthias_ . Stop it.” Something like indignance flits through his mind for half a second. _I’m trying_ , he hears.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
“Limbic resonance,” Kaz says, appearing next to the refrigerator as Wylan microwaves a bowl of milk. Wylan raises an eyebrow at him and waits for him to continue.  “It’s the idea that the limbic system allows humans to temporarily share emotional states; a hivemind, if you will.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Wylan says, reaching for the box of cereal on the highest shelf.

“You’ve been asking the others about what makes this possible; this is it. On a much grander scale, obviously.”

Wylan pauses; the cereal box stops, positioned over his head. “And?”

“You have your answers. Now _stop digging_ ,” Kaz says, calmly reaching up and plucking the box from Wylan’s hands as it begins to slip from his grasp, and then leaving before Wylan’s mustered enough coherence to protest.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.

 

“Kaz is a sodding bastard,” Wylan announces morosely when Nina pops in after work. Nina raises a brow. “He’s trying to get me to stop looking into this.”

Nina blinks. “Did he now?” she says coolly.

Wylan huffs. “Just barged in while I was getting ready for work, spouted some bullshit and then ordered me to stop asking questions.

“Well. I’m sure he has his reasons. He knows more about all this than we do,” Nina says diplomatically, which would have been perfectly plausible if Nina had a deferential bone in her body.

Wylan scowls. “Why are you agreeing with him? You loathe him.”

Nina snorts. “I’m not sure it’s possible to loathe someone that’s in your head. Besides, this is Kaz we’re talking about. He has his reasons,” she repeats, giving him a meaningful look.

“Well,” Wylan says petulantly, “I don’t see where he gets off on trying to tell me what to do. It’s not as though someone’s out there hunting down mutants with psychic abilities.” Nina stills. “Are there?” Wylan asks, suddenly afraid.

“Do you really think humans would just let something like this go? You’ve seen the X-Men movies, haven’t you?” Nina snorts.

“Who is it?” Nina presses her lips into a line without meeting his gaze and Wylan sighs; he won’t be getting anything further out of her.

 

.  
  
.  
  
.

“BPO,” says Matthias, all but falling onto the sofa and crossing his arms like a particularly dramatic toddler. Wylan raises an eyebrow. “Biologic Preservation Organization,” Matthias continues.

Wylan hums and grabs a glass of water. “And they’re hunting us down how?”

“I shouldn’t be talking to you about this anyway. Nina would have my head.” Wylan glares.

Matthias sighs. “They’re an unregulated transnational corporation,” Matthias continues, shrugging as if that’s explanation enough. “They’ve got their hands in just about everything, which means they have enough money to get rid of anything.” Wylan thinks of his father and sighs.

.  
  
.  
  
.

Wylan doesn’t have Kuwei’s knack with computers, but four years of university taught him how to execute a proper Google search, if nothing else. The Biologic Preservation Organization has a website, which is unsurprisingly reticent about the details of the organization, and not much else beyond that in the way of information available to the public.

“Is that their website?” Kuwei asks, leaning over his shoulder to look at the screen. Wylan nods. “It’s very aesthetically appealing,” Kuwei says a moment later, frowning.

Wylan looks at him incredulously. “You haven’t been on their website before?”

Kuwei gives him a dry look. “As if they’re going to put anything relevant on it,” he sniffs, which is fair. Kuwei blinks. “Did you think--?” Wylan glares. Kuwei rolls his eyes. Wylan hears someone snort in his head.

“What have you found?”

Kuwei shrugs. “Not much. They were founded in the ‘70s. Their founder was a woman named Ruth al-Sadawi. She’s dead now. Someone named Whispers is running BPO in her place.”

“ _Whispers_?”

Kuwei shrugs again. “Americans have always been ridiculous.”

.  
  
.  
  
.

Wylan wakes in the middle of the night, startled by a sudden rush of nerves. He sits up, drumming his fingers against his thigh and sighs. “Matthias, for fucks sake.”

“It’s not me,” Matthias says.

Wylan frowns, tapping his foot restlessly for a few seconds before it hits him. “ _Jesper_?”

He hears a laugh, voice smooth as butter. He relaxes almost immediately. “Wylan,” Jesper says. Wylan laughs breathily. The nerves fade away.

.

.

.  
  
"Wylan," Kaz says, appearing on Wylan's countertop while he's rummaging through his fridge for a midnight snack.  
  
"Jesus Christ," Wylan says, fumbling with a Tupperware container for a few seconds before whirling around with narrowed eyes. "Give a guy a warning would you?"  
  
"I need you to do something," Kaz says, ignoring Wylan's admonishment.  
  
"Maybe apologize for barging into my house first?" Wylan says, voice high. Kaz stares at him blankly. Wylan groans quietly. "What is this for?"  
  
"Us." Wylan tilts his head, confused.  Kaz rolls his eyes. "You know about BPO. Whispers. Don’t bother trying to lie.”

“...What about them?”  
  
Kaz sighs. “I’ve been trying to keep us hidden, but BPO is...everywhere. We have to start fighting back. Which is why I need you to get me something.”  he says, running a hand over his face and it is then that Wylan realizes how young the other boy is, how tired he must be. He can't be much older than Wylan himself and yet here he is with dark circles and too-prominent bones.  
  
He's been _protecting_ them, he realizes; Kaz's infuriating secrecy and pretended apathy have all been part of an effort to keep them safe.  
  
"Why me?”

“BPO is being supported by a number of conglomerates, one of which is--”

“--Van Eck Industries,” Wylan sighs.  
  
Kaz inclines his head. "We need you to get into the shipping records,” he says.  
  
"Why?"  
  
"We think that your father's involved in their transport efforts somehow."  
  
“Transport of what?”

Kaz shrugs. “Technology, medicine, food. People.” He gives Wylan a meaningful look.

“My father wouldn’t do that,” Wylan says vehemently. He knows that he’s wrong as soon as the words leave his mouth.  
  
"Jan Van Eck and his associates have done much worse," Kaz says sharply, "and you know it." Wylan deflates at that. ( _He is six. There is a man in his father's office, which means Wylan's not supposed to go in because Papa's doing Official Business, but he's missing a blue crayon so he's sure Papa won't mind. The door slips open and the man is screaming--_ )  
  
"Will you help us or not?" Kaz asks, his voice quiet but hard. Wylan inhales shakily, thinks of Nina's bright laugh, Kuwei's sharp wit, Matthias's quiet strength, his three-am mystery man. He nods.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Next Monday brings him to the threshold of Van Eck headquarters in Dublin. All of his coworkers give him strange looks but they're all too accustomed to his strange hours and fluctuating work ethic so they let him pass.  
  
He grabs a roll of aluminum foil from the break room and turns down a restricted hallway where Nina slips in, tossing everyone bright smiles while she lifts their badges before handing them to Kuwei who wraps them twice in aluminum foil and raises an eyebrow when Wylan rolls his eyes. "Do you want to die because you couldn't be bothered to take a few seconds to create a proper Faraday cage?"  
  
Wylan stops in his tracks. "Kuwei?" Kuwei stops too. "Thank you."  
  
Kuwei snorts. "Don't thank me. You're the only one who’s actually in imminent danger."  
  
Wylan makes a face. "Thanks, I really needed to be reminded of that again." Kuwei smirks.  
  
"He's doing you a favor," Kaz says, materializing near the locked door a couple meters away from them. "Over-confidence will kill you." Kuwei makes a noise and Wylan swears and startles so badly he nearly drops the aluminum foil. Kaz ignores him and pulls a pair of lock picks from who knows where. The door is open a few seconds later.  
  
"Knew I shouldn't have trusted you," Matthias says gruffly a few seconds later from behind Wylan. Nina says nothing, but her shoulders are stiff with tension and he can feel something in the air around them, a distinct sort of tension.  
  
"You also know you don't have a choice," Kaz says smoothly, stepping closer. Matthias takes a small step back. Kaz smirks and flicks his wrist, turning to Wylan. "Go on then, Carrots," he says, and not for the first time, Wylan gets the feeling Kaz knows something he doesn't. He walks in to see what must be a million boxes, stacked so high they nearly reach the ceiling and groans.  
  
He spends ten minutes going through a box before he realizes there's no way his father hasn't digitized at least some of this. He roots around the room and finds one computer, so old it may as well be antique, pinned to the wall by a smaller stack of boxes. Matthias kicks them over. “Go on,” he says, gaze flitting to the double doors.

He stares at the directory unseeing. “Let me,” Kuwei says, pushing him to one side gently and beginning to type furiously. He sits on a box, listening as the clacking of the keys blends with the sound of the air conditioner and Nina biting her nails. Then it stops. He looks up to see Kuwei, staring uneasily at the screen.

“Well?” he says quietly. Kuwei doesn’t answer, but the look on his face is answer enough. “RIght,” he says, looking down at his palms, “my father wants me dead.”  
  
"Oh, Wylan," Nina says, wrapping him in a one-armed hug.  
  
He shrugs her off after a few seconds. "We don't have time for this," he says flatly, “We have to transfer the files.”

“‘M on it,” Kuwei says, “you get the fuck out.”  
  
But of course, just when he thinks this might actually work, an alarm goes off. "Fuck," he breathes, shoving the doors open.  
  
"How'd this happen?" Nina says, panicked.  
  
"We don't know," Kaz says, "keep moving.” Wylan is running before he’s finished the sentence, coattails billowing out behind him. It isn’t enough.  
  
"Sir," he hears, right as he's about to turn into the lobby, "you need to stop." He doesn't, and for his trouble he gets slugged in the chest.  
  
Except it's not a punch, he realizes, that loud bang, means he's been _shot_ . He's been shot stealing _shipping manifests_ of all things. “Take the door on your left,” someone says. They throw it open and he walks through, sluggishly, with his hand on his chest and keeps walking for who knows how long, before he collapses behind a dumpster in an alley.  
  
Nina sinks to her knees beside him. "Wylan,” she says, over the sound of sirens in the distance.  
  
"I'm fine," he says, waving his hand in the air to prove that he still can. "See? I'm--" His vision starts to blur and he hears Nina call his name but he can't move, can't breathe--  
  
And then he hears another voice. "Hey, Sunshine," they say. Their voice is like honey as they place a hand on his cheek and Wylan wants to sink into that warmth and never move. "You have to stay awake."  
  
"I am awake," Wylan mumbles indignantly.  
  
The person laughs and all of a sudden Wylan realizes who this is: his 2 AM visitor. He tries to sit up clumsily (" _Wylan, be careful-_ -"). "Jesper," he says, fumbling for the other man's hand, "Jesper?"  
  
"That's right, Sunshine." Jesper takes his hand and squeezes and Wylan knows that he's going to be fine even as the sirens grow louder still.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He wakes up handcuffed to a hospital bed, Nina on one side, Kuwei on the other. "Where..." he starts, sitting up as much as he can and promptly doubling over in a coughing fit.  
  
Kuwei hands him a glass of water. "You're in the hospital. The bullet's out; the doctors said it was a through and through. You should be good in a few days."  
  
Wylan nods. "Jesper?" he asks, looking around and seeing neither Jesper nor security.  
  
Nina's face softens. "He was here for almost ten hours before you woke up. He had to get back work."  
  
Wylan's heart sinks. "Oh."  
  
Nina snorts. "You two are ridiculous," she says fondly, not bothering to hide the concern in her gaze. Kuwei snorts. Wylan smiles weakly.  
  
"Don’t worry. Jesper will be back,” a girl says from the foot of the bed. Inej, Wylan realizes.  
  
Wylan blinks, taking her in. "It's about damn time." Nina hums, fixing her with a hawk-eyed gaze.  
  
Inej laughs. A few long locks of dark hair slip from her loose bun. "I'm sorry I didn’t visit sooner," she says. Her voice sounds like music. It's relaxing enough that Wylan sinks back into the sheets. "I had...other things to do."  
  
"What other things?" Nina demands, eyes hard.  
  
Inej meets her gaze coolly. "Necessary things." Nina scoffs. Inej sighs, takes her hand. "Nina," she says softly. Nina turns to face her, stubbornly staring her down. "You have to trust me."  
  
"You know I do," Nina responds in a voice softer than Wylan's ever heard her use. Inej smiles.  
  
"Wylan," Kuwei says, from his side. “You have to leave as soon as you can.”  
  
"I know."  
  
"Remember," Inej says solemnly, "they can't ever find out what we are."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
It happens at night. Some idiot starts a fire in the waiting room and while they're moving him, Matthias punches the living daylights out of the police officers and steers him out through the back exits where there's a van waiting for him for some reason.  
  
"How--" he starts, digging his heels into the ground when Matthias tries to shove him forward.  
  
"Kaz," Matthias says darkly, which is enough of an explanation in and of itself. "Get in." Wylan gets in.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He winds up back in his apartment anyway. His phone rings as soon as he gets in. "Hello?" he asks.  
  
"Wylan," Kaz says from the other end. He jumps. What the--  
  
"Kuwei found you. You need to hurry. Destroy the phone, pack your things and get out of the city." There's a click and then the dial tone. He considers his options: he could stay and get caught, he could run and get caught or he could trust Kaz. He picks the latter, against his better judgement. (" _Family_ ," Kuwei had said, something close to reverence in his gaze.)  
  
The next few hours are surreal. He packs everything he can think of: passport, documents, money, clothes, food, his laptop all while moving faster than he ever has in his life. He takes the battery and the SIM out of the phone and crushes all three with his shoe.  
  
The others pop in periodically to remind him that he needs to keep moving, has to get as far away as he can.  
  
He hides out in an Internet cafe for a few hours while he books himself a plane ticket to London before he takes out the battery, making a mental note to ask Kuwei to transfer the data.  
  
Something else comes up before he leaves though. "I need your help," Matthias says shortly, appearing by the door of his squat.  
  
"Something wrong?" he asks, standing up.  
  
Matthias hesitates and Wylan knows almost immediately that something has happened. "I...don't know. Someone put something in my food but I can't tell what it is."  
  
"Have you already ingested it?" Wylan asks.  
  
Matthias nods. "Something's not right," he says. It's the first time Wylan has heard him sound anything but annoyed and Wylan needs to help him but he can't because right when he actually needs to visit his cluster, his brain subconsciously decides that he doesn't.  
  
"I'm...I can't," he says, staring down at his hands.  
  
"Oh..." Matthias trails off, frowning. "It's a sedative," he slurs, collapsing.  
  
"Kaz!" he calls as Matthias disappears, "Jesper!" He hears them wake up, follow the noise and prays to every god he knows to keep Matthias safe.  
  
.

  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Jesper visits while he's packing for his flight. "Matthias is okay. Kuwei told us what to do."  
  
"You're sure?" he asks. Jesper nods. Wylan lets out a sigh of relief. "That's good," he says, viciously chucking everything back into the duffle he brought with him when he ran away from his apartment.  
  
"Wylan--"  
  
"I have to go," Wylan says, avoiding Jesper's quiet gaze.  
  
"Wylan. You have to talk about this," Jesper says. His voice never goes above a whisper and Wylan realizes that Jesper's scared too; they all are. He can feel them in his mind, worry and helplessness crowding out everything else  
  
Wylan holds his gaze and nods. "I promise I'll talk later."  
  
Jesper nods and takes Wylan's hand. Wylan sucks in a breath, watching Jesper; everything feels...more, now. He can hear everything and nothing at the same time; his skin feels like it's being poked simultaneously by a thousand needles and the pain-pleasure does things to brain that impede his speech.  
  
"Be safe," Jesper says, letting his hand fall away. "Promise me you'll be careful?"  
  
Wylan nods. "Promise."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Kaz is waiting for him when he lands. Under any other circumstance, this would be momentous--seeing one of his cluster in person is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to him, even more so than being shot, but it's a little infuriating to see Kaz Brekker everywhere because Kaz is the prickliest fucker he's ever met.  
  
"How the fuck do you always know where I am?" Wylan asks, frustratedly. "Are you stalking me or something?"  
  
The other man cocks his head in response. "We're psychically linked, Wylan; I'm always in your head, and your thoughts are very loud."  
  
Wylan sighs. "Unbelievable," he mutters. "Let's go," he says, gesturing in front of him. Kaz smirks and walks on, his cane quietly tap-tapping against the ground every few seconds. Once they're outside, Wylan shakily asks. "Is Matthias really okay?"  
  
Kaz gives him a long look. "Matthias is fine. He is recuperating well."  
  
"Where the fuck do you get these?" he asks, staring the cherry red convertible currently parked in the airport garage. Kaz smirks at him and gets in. He lets out a low whistle, feeling the tail end of Jesper's appreciation, running a hand over the sleek exterior before tossing the duffle in the back and climbing in the passenger seat.  
  
He tries to turn the radio on a few minutes into the ride but Kaz slaps his hand away. "No," he says, without looking away from the road.  
  
"It's way too quiet in here, I just want to fill the silence--"  
  
"The top is down and I can hear the cars; the only way anything would be silent now is if you were deaf," Kaz growls.  
  
"But--" Wylan protests.  
  
“If I want to listen to music, I will turn the radio on myself," he says, giving Wylan a pointed look despite Wylan's very loud request that he watch the road as the car skids dangerously close to a guardrail.  
  
(Kaz does, in fact, turn the radio on a few minutes after that. He fiddles with the dial for a good minute before settling on a loud rock station that Wylan suspects he picked just to annoy him.)  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Kaz settles him in a hotel room after a conversation with the managerial staff that leaves them pale as milk. "I'm sorry about him," he says, equal parts apologetic, horrified and amused.  
  
"No problem," one of the men says, clearly still in shock. Wylan decides to give them a minute.  
  
The bellhops are the first to snap out of it. One of them points to his bag and asks, "May we take your things sir?" Wylan blinks and nods. The other staff gives him a polite smile and scurries away as Wylan follows the bellhop (CHARLIE, his name tag says) into the elevator.  
  
His jaw drops as soon as he walks into his room; the place is enormous, with columns and massive windows. The bellhop hands his bad and leaves. "What the hell," he breathes, dropping his luggage and leaping onto the bed like he's in some nineties movie.  
  
He takes a minute to revel in the feel of the silk sheets and then he hears a low whistle and bolts upright. "Hey, Carrots," Jesper says, grinning then craning his neck to peer at the chandelier.

Wylan waves, then immediately regrets it. "Kaz," Wylan says by way of explanation.  
  
Jesper hums. "Of course. You sure you'll be safe?"  
  
Wylan nods. "Almost certain. Kaz spent five minutes threatening the hotel staff."  
  
"Five minutes?" Jesper asks, shooting him an amused look. "Well golly."  
  
Wylan smiles weakly, the fascination wearing off in place of worry; guilt. "Matthias?"  
  
Jesper sighs and sits down next to him on the mattress. "Wylan. This wasn't your fault. Matthias is fine now; he'll be the first to tell you that."  
  
"Matthias is always fine," Wylan says, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, "and it is my fault," he insists. "If I had figured out how to visit him, then he would've been okay sooner."  
  
"I don't think Kuwei appreciates that implication," Jesper teases. Wylan gives him a look. Jesper hesitates for a few seconds then says, "You should probably practice visiting on cue."  
  
Wylan perks up at that. "You'd help me?"  
  
Jesper smiles. "We all will." His expression goes a little sour. "Well, most of us."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Matthias comes at night. "Wylan," he says, as Wylan is getting a glass of water.  
  
Wylan nearly drops the glass. "Fucking--"  
  
"It's not your fault," Matthias says bluntly, frowning. Or, Wylan thinks he's frowning. His beard has gotten so big nowadays that Wylan has to remind himself that Matthias still has a face underneath. "You know that don't you?"  
  
Wylan scoffs. "Stop trying to--to console me or whatever the fuck this is," he says angrily. "This was my fault, if I had--"  
  
"Kuwei found us a couple weeks before you did," Matthias cuts him off coolly. "He didn't learn out how to visit on cue until two months ago." Wylan goes quiet. "It's not your fault." Matthias says. Wylan nods.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Nina wrinkles her nose when she finally figures out his problem (but not before going through a list of increasingly more embarrassing scenarios.) "It's been, like, a year Wy. How have you not learned to do this?"  
  
Wylan glares at her. "I asked you to help me not make me feel even worse," he mumbles.  
  
"Visiting on cue is like...a sneeze," Kuwei tells him, mimicking the action. "It builds. For me at least."  
  
Wylan gives him an unimpressed look. "A sneeze," he says flatly. "That's what you're giving me?"  
  
Kuwei adopts a helpless expression. "It is all I have to give," he says, trying to hide his mirth, but there's something else there, a grave kind of truth that Wylan is too tired to try and puzzle out. "Are you sure you've worked everything out up here?" he asks, pointing at his forehead.  
  
"We don't have time for therapy sessions!" Wylan says, frustrated. "Just teach me how to do this. What happened with Matthias can't happen again."  
  
"You're still feeling guilty aren't you?" Inej sighs.  
  
"No," Wylan says unconvincingly. Nina shoots him a look, crossing her arms in a way that screams I don't believe you. "Maybe but it doesn't matter if I am because Jesper's already talked to me about it."  
  
"Maybe you haven't talked about it enough," Inej says, giving him a pointed look as Wylan scoffs.  
  
"Or you just need to relax," Nina says. She tilts her her head appraisingly. "You do trust us, don't you?"  
  
"Yeah, of course," Wylan says sincerely. "The six of you saved my life."  
  
"Well, you're not lying," Nina says her brow furrowing, "so there shouldn't be a problem."  
  
"Nina is right," Inej says, hopping onto of his very large countertops. "You need to clear your mind." Wylan makes a frustrated noise. Nina shoots Inej a grin and Inej smiles back, soft like she can't help it.  
  
"Ok," Kuwei says, "so just...imagine a door in your mind, us on the other side, and then imagine opening it." Nina gives him an incredulous look. "What?" Kuwei says indignantly. "Visualization has been effective in other situations."  
  
Wylan closes his eyes and concentrates. When he opens them, he's still standing in the hotel. "Nope," he says, discouraged. The others sigh in unison.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He stops trying for a few weeks after that, tells himself it'll come naturally. The other frowns when he tells them but they don't say anything, so he takes that as an okay. It's depressing as fuck. He counteracts the depression with a quart of ice cream and a shit ton of research. He's fine. (He's not.)  
  
The others visit too, which is nice. Kuwei visits when he needs fresh air, although he still won't tell anyone why he needs to visit London to get it; Nina and Inej sometimes settle down next to him when he's in the middle of a movie marathon. Jesper visits late at night, right as Wylan is about to fall asleep and they stay up until 2 AM talking, although Wylan finds he doesn't mind now.  
  
One day Jesper visits earlier, around midday. "I think I've figured out how to solve your problem."  
  
Wylan cracks open eyelid and then immediately closes it, groaning and rolling over. "I was just wounded," he moans. "I need rest."  
  
Jesper flops down onto the mattress, ignoring his protests. "Your problem is that you're not relaxed enough."  
  
Wylan throws a pillow at him. "I'm plenty relaxed," he says, "and I will be even more so, if I'm allowed to sleep." Jesper casts a pointed look at the sun. Wylan sits up, sighing. "So what, you're going to relax me?" Wylan asks. "How do you plan to do that?"  
  
Jesper tears his gaze away from Wylan's chest and grins. "How about how I show you," Jesper says, eyes shining, leaning forward. Wylan makes a noise and pushes him away.  
  
Jesper laughs and then Wylan can't say anything because Jesper takes his hand and this is all that matters: him standing stock still, toes curling into the plush rug and Jesper, lacing his slim fingers in between Wylan's, watching him with a bright gaze and Wylan can't breathe as every thought that isn't Jesper flies out of his mind.  
_  
_ _Clear your mind_ , Inej had said, _relax_ , and in that moment something clicks. He blinks. When he pulls away he's not standing in the hotel room, except he is. He feels the rug under his feet but he sees dark walls, light filtering in through bright curtains.  
  
"Oh my God," he breathes, stepping away from the other man, looking around at the leather jacket thrown over one arm of the couch, the rack of guns leaning against one wall, the boots placed haphazardly next to the door. "This is your place?" Jesper nods, beaming.  
  
Wylan walks to one of the windows and pulls the bright orange drapes aside. "That's...the Empire State Building. You're in...New York?"  
  
Jesper nods again, smiling, and holds out a hand. "Wanna go see the others?" Wylan grins and takes it.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Norway is freezing at six in the morning, but Wylan finds he doesn't mind. The sky is clear and crisp, a soft purple-blue. He can hear the snow crunching under his shoes as he shivers, laughing as the cold air turns his nose red.  
  
He turns slowly, reaching out to catch the snowflakes on his hands as they fall. Jesper laughs, tilting his head back to stare up into the sky.  
  
Matthias is at the end of the street, walking a wolf on a leash, which, even after all of this, is the single most absurd thing Wylan's ever seen. "You're actually here," Matthias says, blinking.  
  
"You know I've been here before," Wylan says, beaming.  
  
"So you have." He is smiling now. The wolf at his side lets out an impatient huff. Matthias murmurs to it something before saying, "Would you like to pet her?"  
  
"What, the wolf?" Wylan asks, taking a step back. "Are you crazy?"  
  
"Oh come on Wylan," Jesper says, stepping past him to carefully put a hand in front of its nose. "Don't tell me you're scared of an overgrown dog."  
  
"That thing is an apex predator, I'm not going near it," he protest, stepping even further back as Jesper strokes its flank, ignoring Matthias' insistence that it's domesticated. Two minutes later, he's got one imaginary hand buried in its fur as the beast whines in something that might be displeasure.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
New York City is loud, almost too bright despite it being almost midnight. Kaz is in front of a computer; the glow of the monitor throws the sharp planes of his face into sharp relief. There are more high-rise buildings reflected in the monitor than Wylan has ever seen in his life.  
  
"Go away, Jesper," Kaz says absentmindedly, fingers flying across the keyboard. "I don't have time to clean up your messes today."  
  
"I've come to collect my winnings," Jesper says smugly.  
  
Kaz looks up quickly, gaze flitting from Jesper to Wylan, standing a few steps behind him. "You're here," he says coolly, turning back to his monitor as if nothing has happened.  
  
"I am," Wylan says.  
  
"Pay up," Jesper says, holding out a hand.  
  
"Congratulations Jesper," Kaz says dryly, "your first and only successful bet."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Nina is still sleeping when they visit; she's sprawled across her mattress, snoring slightly, her blanket half on the floor. Her blinds are open and the city lights turn her pale skin warm shades of yellow and orange.  
  
Everything is quiet outside; the birds chirp and the leaves on the trees rustle and that's about the only thing he can hear. Denmark is relaxing in a way Dublin never could be to him, what with his father breathing down his neck all day.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
India is warmer than everywhere else, which is unsurprising. It's not an unpleasant kind of warmth.  
  
Inej's house is huge, the walls painted a pale orange. A rosebush crawls up the side of one of the walls; potted herbs sit on a windowsill. A courtyard in the middle of the house is almost entirely dedicated to one large mango tree.  
  
The sunlight filtering in through turns everything a bright gold as Inej's family slowly goes about their day. Inej holds a plate in the air, grinning as her siblings try to reach for it. Her father laughs from where he sits as the dining room table and her mother shakes her head as she waters a bush.  
  
"This is," Wylan breathes, craning his neck and closing his eyes.  
  
Jesper hums. "I know."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Kuwei lives in an all-white flat that Wylan would be inclined to call minimalist, if everything wasn't so haphazardly placed. He can't see much of anything outside; all the windows are boarded up, and the few personal objects that are displayed: photographs, a brightly colored tote bag, are all hidden away, behind too-white furniture, under bedding.  
  
"Huh," Jesper says, blinking.  
  
Wylan looks at him in surprise. "Have you not been to Kuwei's place either?"  
  
"I have." Jesper walks around, glancing at the walls and the floors. "It just looked...different then."  
  
He sighs, running a finger along the edge of the kitchen counter and stopping when he reaches a photograph of a woman, a woman who looks startlingly similar to Kuwei. "Unemployed, my ass," he mutters.  
  
"Something's wrong," Jesper says, gaze going unfocused. "Kuwei should be here."  
  
"Well, he probably is here or we wouldn't have come here, right?" Wylan asks. "Maybe there's somewhere we haven't looked." He eyes a door next to the pantry.  
  
Jesper follows his gaze and mutters a curse under his breath. "Well, go on then," he says, waving a hand at the door. There's a staircase that leads down to a stereotypical basement: dark, damp.  
  
Kuwei is down there, huddled in a corner behind a large tank with an older looking man. It takes them nearly an hour to find him, but only because the basement is huge and they keep having to leave for bathroom breaks. They nearly don't see him, until he moves and a small ray of light that's slipped in through one the holes in the plywood blocking the window catches on Kuwei's sleeve.  
  
"...Kuwei?" Wylan asks, staring incredulously at his clustermate.  
  
Kuwei's eyes go as wide as dinner plates. The man next to him looks between Kuwei and a spot an inch to the left of Jesper. "This is them, isn't it?" he says, sounding a little bit too excited for a man in his situation. "These are the people in your head."  
  
"They shouldn't be here," Kuwei hisses.  
  
"Well we are here," Jesper says, trying to sit down next to Kuwei and pulling Wylan with him.  
  
"And so are the Russians," Kaz says suddenly from somewhere on the other side of the boiler. "You should probably leave."  
  
As Kuwei kicks down a piece of wood in the wall and crawls through, his father close behind, Jesper gets out from behind the tank and asks, "How long have you been here?" Kaz has disappeared by the time Wylan turns the corner.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
By then Kuwei is long gone, so they go home which could be anywhere at this point: Nina's favorite cafe in Denmark, Inej's sunlit courtyard in India, the lake in Norway.  
  
He ends up with Jesper; of course he does. Jesper collapses into his couch as soon as they get back. "I think I'll take a nap," he says, rubbing a hand across his face. The warm light of the lamp on the table next to him spills over his dark skin, softening the hard edges of his face; he looks angelic.  
  
"You're still wearing combat boots and all of the rest of your clothes. You can't sleep like that," Wylan says, leaning awkwardly against a wall.  
  
Jesper opens one eye, grinning devilishly. "Would you like to rectify that, then?" he teases.  
  
Wylan goes beet red. "Don't be ridiculous," he says, stepping forward to pull Jesper's boot off while ignoring his protests. "You're obviously too tired to do this yourself." He thinks for a beat. "Speaking of which, what did you do today?"  
  
"Wouldn't you like to know," Jesper says. That was meant to be teasing, Wylan is sure, but Jesper's too tired do anything more than sink into the cushions like a stone in water. Wylan shoots him a look. "Why do you want to know?"  
  
"You shouldn't be this tired," Wylan says, reaching for the other one. "We were only in Seoul for twenty minutes."  
  
Jesper a noise in agreement and cranes his neck to look down at Wylan blearily. "Right as you are, you shouldn't be doing this," he says, trying to sit up. "I'm perfectly capable."  
  
Wylan pushes him back onto the couch gently. "I'm not doing anything, technically," Wylan says, smugly. "It's all you."  
  
Jesper laughs shortly and gives him a peculiar look. "I suppose so."  
  
Wylan holds his gaze for a few seconds later before clearing his throat and looking away. He reaches for Jesper's jacket and the other man freezes. "Is this...okay?" Jesper exhales slowly and relaxes ever so slightly, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and letting Wylan do the rest.  
  
"Yes. I trust you," he says softly, as if he can't believe it.  
  
"I know."  
  
Wylan doesn't realize until after he's left that Jesper never really answered his question.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
They don't hear from Kuwei for two weeks. Wylan can't feel him on the other end of their bond and neither can any of the others. Kaz scopes out his flat one day and finds it empty. "I don't understand where he could've gone," Wylan says, beginning to place. "Did the Russians find him?"  
  
Nina sits upright, spoon in hand. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" she demands.  
  
"Why do you care?" Jesper says. "You're not Russian." Nina raises a pointed eyebrow at him. "Oh," Jesper says after a long moment. Nina sniffs, affronted, as Matthias sighs fondly from the other side of the room. "Well, the people that are after Kuwei and his dad are Russian, so." Nina sniffs again.  
  
"Regardless of how offensive this may or may not be," Kaz says rolling his eyes, "we need to find Kuwei."  
  
"No need," Kuwei says. Even Kaz jumps a little.  
  
"You should've talked to us," Inej says sternly. "It's been two weeks."  
  
Kuwei shoots her a look. "My father and I had trained spies on our trail up until four hours ago. I couldn't afford to."  
  
"We're imaginary, Kuwei, they can't see us," Jesper says exasperatedly. "Plus it doesn't take long to pop in and tell us you're okay."  
  
Kuwei shakes his head vehemently. "You don't understand," he insists. "They're like us. They're sensates." The room goes silent at that. They all look towards Kaz who says nothing, just grips his crow's head cane a little tighter.  
  
"He didn't know," Inej says, tilting her head. Kaz gives her a cool look.  
  
"What do you know?" Matthias asks.  
  
Kaz shrugs slightly. "Kuwei learned of Sensates earlier than the rest of us. His father has information about our kind that BPO wants," Kaz says, watching Kuwei's face carefully. "Did I get it all?"  
  
Kuwei shrugs. "Pretty much."  
  
"I thought the Russians were after you?" Nina says, frowning.  
  
"They're...Russian BPO agents?"  
  
Wylan heaves a sigh. "Well fuck."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
After that everything becomes even more urgent. Nina becomes hypervigilant, gaze shifting constantly, fingers drumming against any surface she can find, as she scours the room for...well, Wylan doesn't know really, but it's unsettling nonetheless. Matthias becomes even quieter, more curt and gruff. He keeps an eye on the door at all times, even when he's visiting. Kuwei becomes less animated, cutting off his sentences awkwardly when he's reminded of something he'd rather avoid.  
  
It's hard to see that the others have changed, but they do. Inej starts visiting more and more. He wakes up to find her perched on his windowsill, quietly keeping watch, a cup of chai in one hand. Kaz stops visiting entirely so Wylan starts visiting instead to check up on him and finds him in front of the computer, surrounded by stack of paper and more than a few guns. Jesper becomes louder, drawing attention to himself to keep if off Kuwei and Inej, brushing off near death experiences and the odd bullet wound as if they're minor inconveniences.  
  
It's worrying, but Wylan doesn't know what to do about it. The seven of them are in seven different countries and he's not exactly the best with words himself. He tries to convince himself he's going with the flow when he does nothing, accepts Jesper's new found flippancy, smiles at Inej every morning. (It doesn't work.)  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Somehow, despite all of Kaz's planning and cautiousness, it's a bakery that finally does them in. Kuwei goes to get a loaf of bread and finds a half dozen Russian sensates waiting for him. He barely has time to call for help before he's knocked unconscious.  
  
Wylan manages to hack into some database, Kuwei's voice in his head as his fingers flit across the keyboard, even with Kaz watching the monitor like a hawk over his shoulder. They find him just outside Sydney, although none of them can visit him for more than a second at a time until BPO slips up with the blockers and Kaz finds himself in a hospital. Wylan nearly drops his toast as relief flood through him and reaches out almost immediately for Inej.  
  
"Did he--" Inej nods. Everyone else is already there when he gets to the hospital, crowded around Kuwei's hospital bed. He's not conscious. "We have to get him out," Wylan says.  
  
Kaz takes a quick look around. The nurses are gazing furtively at Kuwei and the guards on either side are having been checking their watches for the past few minutes. "They're about to move him," Kaz says.  
  
"We'll do it then," Inej says, standing and pulling a knife out her boot.

They come for him five minutes later. Kuwei stirs when they start wheeling the bed down a hallway, head turning frantically. "Wylan," he rasps. "Inej."  
  
"We're getting you out," Matthias says from somewhere near his feet. As soon as Kuwei is wheeled past a set of double doors, Matthias socks a security guard in the face and Jesper punches another one in the gut.  
  
Inej hooks her arm under Kuwei's shoulder as Nina takes the other and together, they carry him to the exit as Matthias incapacitates the last guard. Nina tries the handle and swears. "It's locked."  
  
Kaz fiddles with the lock and two seconds later, the door's open. "What the fuck," Wylan mutters.  
  
"Go," he says, watching Kuwei with a haunted look in his eyes. "Take Kuwei away. I'm going to fix this." He's gone before any of them can say anything.  
  
Nina shrugs. "Let's go." The four of them kick the doors open, Kuwei supported between them and pile into a taxi.  
  
"Drive," Wylan growls as Kuwei as Nina as Inej. The driver gives them a peculiar look but follows their instruction, speeding off into the streets as though he's being chased.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
He's back in his apartment when he blinks. There's a dent in his wall that was probably from Matthias. He's shattered the glasses that were on his counter and his knuckles are bruised almost to the point of bleeding, but he can't find it in himself to care as he leans against his wall and tries to breathe.  
  
"Kaz is flying to Sydney," Jesper says. Wylan opens his eyes slowly. "He found a hotel for Kuwei but Inej and Nina pressured him into hiring guards."  
  
"That's nice," he says, on an exhale. "We're sure Kuwei's safe?" Every part of his body feels heavy; he feels like he could sink into the floor if he wanted to.  
  
Jesper pauses for a moment. "He will be." Wylan nods sluggishly and then he's pitching forward, too tired to keep himself up, and landing on...Jesper. "Come on, Sunshine," Jesper says quietly. "Let's get you to bed."  
  
Wylan protests weakly but he's too tired to walk properly, much less undress himself and find the bed so he lets Jesper maneuver him gently, lifts his arms so Jesper can take off his sweater, only half aware of his actions.  
  
"Jesper," he breathes. Jesper pauses. "I trust you too," he says, eyelids drooping.  
  
He feels Jesper smile into the soft skin of his neck. "I know you do Carrots."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Wylan wakes up the next day in an interrogation room straight out of some buddy-cop drama. Kaz is in a chair in front of him and there's a man pacing on the other side of the room. "Kaz?" he asks. Kaz glances at him briefly before looking away.  
  
The man pauses to watch him (them?). "Is that your cluster?" he asks. Kaz doesn't answer. The man laughs. "You're one of the silent ones. Is your cluster the same?" Kaz watches him without saying a word.  
  
The man snarls. "Do you what they call me?"  
  
"In which part of the world?" Kaz asks, looking more bored than anything else. The man reaches forward to punch Kaz in the nose so hard he starts bleeding. Kaz laughs at that, even as blood drips down the side of his face. "They call you Whispers, like you're some kind of pet--" The man hits him again.  
  
"They call me Cannibal," he growls. "And for good reason. You see, I'll find your cluster eventually even if you stay silent, so you'd be better off just telling me, don't you think?"  
  
"How'd he find you?" Wylan asks. "Who is he?"  
  
Kaz stares resolutely at the wall. "Not if they find you first, Rollins."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
When Wylan slides into Nina's loft, she's sleeping on her couch, her head resting on Inej's thigh. "Wake up," he yells.  
  
Nina opens her eyes slowly, groaning. "Do we have to?"  
  
Inej sighs and puts her book down, gently carding her fingers through Nina's hair. "Well, Wylan said to," she says, only a little mockingly. Wylan glares at her. She sobers up a little. "Is something wrong?"  
  
"Kaz is in trouble," Wylan says, running a hand through his hair.  
  
Nina snorts. "That's his normal state of being."  
  
Wylan glares again. "This is different. He was in an interrogation room or something. Some dude named Rollins punched him."  
  
Nina sits up abruptly. "Rollins? As in Pekka Rollins."  
  
Wylan nods. Inej and Nina do their knowing-looking thing and stand up. Wylan blinks. "So, are we..." Inej rolls her eyes and walks out of the room. Wylan follows only when he reaches the threshold, he's not in Nina's flat anymore.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
The first thing Wylan notices is that Kaz looks terrible. There's dried blood crusted above his upper lip and his teeth, also stained red, are bared in a snarl. Nina lets out a low whistle when she sees him. "Fuck."  
  
Inej sighs. "This isn't going to end well," she says, frowning. Nina hums.  
  
"What the fuck did he get himself into this time?" Matthias growls from the other side of the window.  
  
"Hell if I know," Jesper answers, stopping just in front of Rollins and tilting his head curiously. "What'd he say this guy's name was?"  
  
"Pekka Rollins," Nina says, raising her eyebrow pointedly.  
  
Jesper freezes. "You're sure?" Nina nods. The five of them leave to find themselves in Kaz's loft, in front of Kuwei who's slowly finishing off a tub of ice cream. "What the fuck," Jesper says.  
  
Kuwei blinks. "Did something happen?"  
  
Nina squints at him. "Is this really happening?" she asks, poking Kuwei's leg and ignoring his cry of pain. "We've been worried sick about you, and you've just been sitting in Kaz's loft, eating."  
  
"I've been doing more than that!" Kuwei protests indignantly. "Who do you think got Kaz into that room?"  
  
Matthias pauses. "You mean he's in there getting punched on purpose?"  
  
Kuwei gives him a look, as if to say duh. "This is Kaz," he says flatly.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Kuwei gives them the location of the loft after a few hours of threatening and coaxing and protesting ("Kaz didn't want me to; he knows what he's doing--") but after that it doesn't take long for them to come up with a vague plan.  
  
Four of them board four different planes to Reykjavik (Jesper and Kuwei don't come; Kuwei still can't be seen and they insisted someone stay with him to make sure he didn't do anything stupid) and as a result they land at four different hours. Nina is so tired that she's barely coherent, but Wylan can barely sit still when he gets off the plane.  
  
Their strategy is terrible (they know because Matthias and Inej have told them so at least ten times each and Jesper has voiced his support for it several times) but at this point there's really nothing they can do. Kaz will sit in that room and let them hurt him until he can't move or worse and they can't let that happen. They _won't._  
  
They go in dressed as BPO operatives in stolen Hazmat suits. Inej knocks the guards unconscious in a few seconds and lets Matthias takes care of the bodies as she and Nina move on to fooling the scanners and then ten minutes later they're kicking down the door to Kaz's room.  
  
He grins when he sees them, all split lips and blood-stained teeth. "I told you so," he says.  
  
It doesn't take long to incapacitate Rollins. They force him into Kaz's chair, kicking and screaming. Wylan feels his stomach turn, feels Kuwei flinch from New York, but underneath the disgust is a grim satisfaction that the others aren't nearly as shy about expressing; there's a gleam in their eyes he hasn't ever seen before but finds he doesn't entirely hate.  
  
And Kaz. Kaz is a different story; he looks like a monster straight out of the story books. There's blood all over him: his face, his neck, the collar of his blazer. His dark eyes shine like cold jewels. "I wonder if you recognized me when you brought me in," he says, tilting his head.  
  
Something in Rollins' expression twists; he looks defiant still, but also scared. Kaz watches him like a lion chasing a mouse. "You didn't, did you? You still don't." he says, in the same voice, soft and slow and almost smooth.  
  
"In 2004, you killed a boy. Do you remember?" Rollins' eyes go wide. "He was like us," Kaz says.  
  
"Rietveld," Rollins breathes. "You...you're the brother."  
  
"That's right."  
  
"I'm sorry," Rollins stammers.  
  
"I have no need for apologies," Kaz says, "but I do have no need for vengeance."  
  
Rollins laughs. "Vengeance?" he spits. "You're barely of drinking age."  
  
Kaz smiles darkly. "I don't need to able to drink to commit a crime." Rollins sneers. "I have your son, you see," Kaz says like he's telling a secret.  
  
Rollins goes stock still. "Don't you dare hurt him--"  
  
"I had my people bury him in a crypt," he continues as if Rollins hadn't said anything. "Do you think you'd be able to hear him crying if you got close enough?" Rollins snarls.  
  
Inej steps in front of Kaz hurriedly, shooting him a look before turning to Rollins. "You care for your son, don't you?" Rollins nods. "I thought so," she says, pulling a knife from the sheath on her thigh and pressing it into his chest. Rollins tenses up again, sucking in a quick frightened breath. "I'm giving you a deal right now," she explains.  
  
"Is that so," Rollins snarls.  
  
"It's simple: you leave the seven of us alone and we leave you alone," Inej says, her voice as smooth as silk. "But," she continues, smiling a little as the knife tears through the cloth of his shirt, "if you decide to come after us, then we come after you."  
  
"You little--" Rollins starts, cutting himself off as the knife breaks skin too.  
  
"There's a little reminder," Inej says, smiling and stepping away. "You're free to go now."  
  
"Tick tock," Jesper says, smirking.  
  
A few seconds later, after they're sure Rollins is gone, Kaz leans against the wall, wincing. "Right," he says, "that's done."  
  
Inej blinks. "You mean you didn't have his kid?"  
  
Kaz laughs shortly, his face twisting into a strange sort of half-smile. "We both know that I have much better uses for both my time and my people."  
  
.  
  
.  
  
.  
  
Wylan goes back to the flat in London. He has far too many bad memories of Dublin, and he's probably been fired from his father's company for a while now so there's really no reason to go back. He's half asleep the moment he opens the door but he has just enough energy left to actually make it to the bed.  
  
Jesper's in the living room when he gets back. His leather jacket's been placed on a side table by the door and Jesper sits in the armchair, legs crossed.  
  
"It's too early for this," he mumbles half-heartedly, trudging into the kitchen for some coffee.  
  
"Oh come on, Wylan," Jesper says, holding back a grin, "where's your can-do spirit?" Wylan tosses a glare at him over his shoulder.  
  
Jesper tuts, his expression strangely knowing. "I think I know what your problem is." Wylan stills and slowly sets the coffee pot down. "I think...you need to relax." Wylan stops breathing as he hears Jesper step closer.  
  
"Oh?" Wylan asks, shakily. Jesper makes a noise low in his throat. "And you're going to relax me all the way from New York City?"  
  
Jesper laughs, low and soft. "I'm not from that far away."  
  
Wylan turns around, confused. "What do you mean, not--oh." He cuts himself off on an inhale, eyes going wide. Jesper takes a few more steps forward as Wylan reaches for him, fingers trembling. "You--you're--"  
  
"-- _here,_ " Jesper says, taking his hand and it feels--it feels like heaven.

**Author's Note:**

> * please don't try to pet a wolf irl that is a Bad Idea  
> 
> * find me on [tumblr](http:spookyghafas.tumblr.com)  
> 
> * i have done the bare minimum as far as research goes for this fic so pls tell me if you caught a mistake  
> 
> *  **update 3/12:** rewritten!


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